“Fun stuff. We were gonna do this big show outside a castle, right? Le Woodstock, something like that. Little French hippies take off their berets. Good time. But, uh, it rained. Who’da thunk?”

No one could predict rain in the South of France in the spring.

“So, you know, we go back to the old place and we’ve picked up some stragglers. Film crew. Mayor.”

Randos.

“Randos.”

Dealers.

“Dealers.”

Tapers.

“Yeah, that was confusing. We were in France, and all of a sudden–bam–there’s this little forest of microphones sticking up from behind the board. Phil had a theory about spontaneous generation.”

I would agree with that.

“And then, you know, we dosed everyone in sight including the gendarmes and played for a while.”

Lemme ask you something.

“Shoot.”

How the hell did you get away with dosing so many cops?

“Oh, no, no. Can’t dose cops. Bobbies, gendarmes, polizei: those you can dose. They don’t even have guns. We were better armed than they were. And, you know: it was 1971. You could get away with murder. We did several times.”